


No Shoes on the Bed

by MistressPandora



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Implied Consent, M/M, Panties, Spanking, paddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-09 02:48:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13472082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressPandora/pseuds/MistressPandora
Summary: Dean never feels playful. Oh, he likes to play. And by play he means have kinky hot sex with Cas. But he never acts giddy like he is now. But here he is, ass and hard cock stretching out pink satin and lace, feet in brown cowboy boots with spurs clinking.





	No Shoes on the Bed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cryptomoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptomoon/gifts).



> Based on an emoji prompt by the lovely CryptoMoon.

Dean never feels playful. Oh, he likes to play. And by _play_ he means have kinky hot sex with Cas. But he never acts giddy like he is now. But here he is, ass and hard cock stretching out pink satin and lace, feet in brown cowboy boots with spurs clinking. He's laid across the bed on this stomach, panty-clad ass on full view, his knees bent and boots clacking together above and behind his head. That's all he's wearing, the boots and the panties. And Cas, the oblivious ass, hasn't even looked up from his book from where he sits on the small couch in their room.

" _Caaaaaasssss_ ," he sings. "Would you put that book down for two seconds? It'll be there later, I promise."  


Slowly the book comes down and blue eyes come up, widening just a fraction. Then the eyebrow. Oh God, that eyebrow. Just one, arching high as Cas presses his lips into a line. "Are you... wearing shoes on the bed?"

Dean swallows hard but his goofy fucking grin barely falters. "Maybe."  


Cas stands, a long process of unfolding himself gracefully from the ugly green couch, his trench coat falling into place around his legs. He tosses the book onto the side table and gives Dean a long look up and down, stripping him even more bare with his eyes, from the tussle of his hair to the polished tips of his spurs. That eyebrow doesn't budge as Cas takes a deliberate step forward.  


Then, like he's drawing his angel blade, a leather paddle appears in his right hand and Dean knows he's in for it. His grin finally falters and Dean licks his lips, his cock twitching under him. He knows there's going to be a little wet stain on the panties from the precum dribbling from the tip and the thought thrills him. But in the meantime there's an ass beating coming his way and Cas does not look pleased.

"Do we wear shoes on the bed?" Cas asks. Except he's not Cas now. He's _Sir_ and Sir will not be fucked with.

Dean shakes his head in a jerking motion and considers rolling off the bed and putting his boots on the floor but it's too late.

The eyebrow arches impossibly higher. "Answer me, Dean. Use your words."

"N-no, Sir," Dean whispers.

One strong hand closes around the ankle of Dean's left boot, pulls it off. Sir drops the boot to the hard floor with a clatter of spurs and leather. Then the right boot comes off and Dean's bare feet drop to the pile of pillows beneath them. His eyes are riveted to the red paddle in Sir's right hand. Sir lays his left hand on Dean's back, right between the shoulder blades, and pushes, pushes with that inhuman strength until Dean is held firmly to the mattress. His heart pounds in his chest because now he can't see the paddle, doesn't know when the first blow will come, only that it will. Dean's ass clenches, waiting. And waiting. His face his pressed into the quilt, his own hot breath tickling his nose.

_SMACK_.

Dean sucks in a hissing breath but can't help the moan that bubbles out of his throat.  


Another smack, harder this time. The pain blossoms along his ass cheek, the satin of his panties doing nothing to soften the blow. If anything, he feels it more acutely, his skin accustomed to the soft slide of luxurious fabric rather than the hard slap of leather.

Another blow. God it's too much and Dean moans openly. If Sir takes off his panties now his ass will be a canvas of red.  


"What's that, pet?" Sir growls, the paddle carressing Dean's cheeks and hips, making him flinch.

"Please, Sir," he moans. "More."

And Sir will always oblige.

**Author's Note:**

> Two firsts for me: first time writing Dean in panties, first time writing in present tense.


End file.
